


Life is a miracle, I saw it in your eyes

by AlatarielSirfalas



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-29 19:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6389872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlatarielSirfalas/pseuds/AlatarielSirfalas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke goes back to Arkadia with Octavia, immediately after sleeping with Lexa. Lexa remains in Polis, perfectly well and healthy. </p><p>What happens when two lovers find themselves on the brink of war once again? What will Clarke do to get Pike to surrender his position as Chancellor? What will Lexa do to keep her clans and army from attacking? How will two people that are meant to be together cope when they find themselves without one another once again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there :)
> 
> So this is going to continue from after the Clexa sex scene, meaning exactly after that Clarke heads back without running into Titus or Murphy or any danger, and neither does Lexa. They are both safe and very much alive. So basically I'm erasing all the bullshit Jason did after the sex scene cause Jason is a rat. Therefore, I'm going to tell my own story in hopes of finding a bit of closure in this story I get to share with all of you, by keeping Lexa alive here and forever in our hearts. 
> 
> Shutout to my Clexakru fam for inspiring to do this. Love you guys xxxx

The saffron-yellow sun is kissing the night away, gently caressing in the morning sky, the wide yonder she knows will soon be infused by different shades of blue. She looks outside her balcony, elbows perched on the waist-high wall, chin resting in her palms, the early morning breeze flowing through her brown hair. She hopes that the same way that the shining golden sunlight is welcoming the blue of the sky, that likewise her eyes will get to greet golden locks and blue eyes down in the streets below her. 

 

Lexa revisited this scene everyday ever since the day the blonde had left for Arkadia. She stands here daily wishing to the stars, that were undetectable to her at this time of day, that Clarke would return to her. It was something she recently caught herself doing: invoking help from fixed luminous points. She reasoned the blonde had fallen to the ground from among them and so she thanked them constantly. Her lips would stretch into a smirk every time. She knew she was being absurd and over-emotional about this but she could not help herself. Not with her, not with Clarke.

 

Clarke had ignited something inside of her that had not been alight in a very long time, perhaps an entity that had never been set aflame before entirely, but now, now it’s burning deep within her, scotching her veins, seething her black blood, quilting her heart and invigorating her soul. Lexa could feel her body trembling at the thought of the blonde, aching for her sapphire eyes, her blonde hair falling onto her face tickling her ears, her lips trembling against hers, soft but firm, gentle but needy, her fingers trailing her naked sides and bare thighs.

 

Lexa straightens her back coming off the wall, urgently breathing in some very much needed oxygen that had escaped her lungs at the thought of the blonde. She sighs heavily, and with one final glance towards the streets far down below her and the sun that was now blazing her eyes, she squints at the sunlight and walks back inside her bedroom, falling back into commander-mode.

 

* * *

 

In the unyielding blazing light, Clarke was atop her bay horse, riding through the meadow, any sign of shade missing. The grass encompassing the entire field was Eden-green, as high as the horse’s knees, the tress in the distance stood proudly seemingly adjoining with the blue skies as far as the eyes could see, perforated with fluffy clouds. It was not just the sights that please the blonde’s senses. The smell that hits her nostrils was rich of warm soil and the essence of blooming flowers, all bounded by the hot air that charges into her lungs. It all reminds her of her first moments on the ground. How the tress, the grass, the flowers, the soil, the water, were no longer things drawn on paper or on her prison cell’s walls and floors, but became things she could perceive, they were commodities she could see, touch, hear … and breathe, she thinks as she takes in a deep breath closing her eyes. She slips back into how simple it was for a moment when they had just landed on the ground and were all overjoyed before their excitement got speared away. She scoffs happily to herself at the thought that the Commander who had sent her warriors to kill them all had shared her bed with her. Her exceptionally sizeable, comfortable, warm bed. The blonde gently bits her lip as she recalls how they rolled around all over that bed. Their fingers intertwined as tightly as their bodies, her fingers caressing over the rough surface of the brunette’s tattoos and scars, her mouth soothing the gentle moans that escaped past her quivering lips and the pleading call of her name. Clarke. Clarke.

 

“Clarke!”

 

The blonde jolts out of her daydream, promptly opening her eyes. She grabs a sudden tight hold on the reins to keep herself from falling off her horse from the unexpected disturbance.

 

“What the hell?” she exclaims angrily as she tries to regain her balance.

 

“Talking here,” Octavia proclaims annoyingly at the blonde. “God Clarke you’re so whipped,” she rolls her eyes.

 

“Am not!” she defends, looking straight ahead of her, finally having adjusted her position on the horse’s back.

 

When she gets no response from the brunette riding next to her, she turns to face her and finds Octavia with a very irritated questioning look on her face. The brunette rolls her eyes again and pretends to whisper, “Sure … and I’m not sweating my ass off in this blazing heat.”

  
“Hey I told you to leave earlier alright?”

 

Octavia sighs. “Don’t sit there and pretend that the peak sun is the reason you wanted to leave camp early.”

 

The blonde smirks to herself, however Octavia catches it and shakes her head. She has been suspicious of Clarke’s affection towards the Commander for a while. Although now she was more certain than ever after she witnessed the blonde these past few weeks being gloomy constantly besides when there was news from the Leader of the clans. The blonde was relentlessly questioning the riders if there were any updates sent from Polis. Octavia would watch as Clarke’s blue eyes would shine with hope over any prospective information, only to be denied and release a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping forward in defeat, her face stern and eyes dull with dejection once again. On the contrary, the one time there was notice from the Commander, she had nearly pushed everyone to the floor to get to the informant. Octavia had giggled to herself watching the blonde advance through the crowd that had gathered outside, within the gates.

 

_“What did she say?” Clarke asks._

_“Lexa has reaffirmed that the blockade will stand and any sky person who tries to cross the border will be subject to a kill order.”_

_Clarke grimaces at the disrespect in the man’s voice, refusing to acknowledge her title._

_“Heda,” she growls correcting him._

_“Heda … does not scare us,” Pike announces emerging from the crowd. “We will not be imprisoned within our own lands.”_

_“This is not your land,” she says harshly, walking up to him. “This was their land for decades before any of us crash landed here. We should consider ourselves lucky that there’s any of us left and she hasn’t decided to wipe us all out.”_

_“Wipe us out?” he scoffs arrogantly. “In case you haven’t realized Clarke, we wiped out an army of 300 people with just 10 of ours. They may have the numbers, but we have the guns.”_

 

_Her face twists in a disgusted expression as she approaches him further whilst he stands his ground. “You may have the guns, but you have no honor. You slaughtered an army, that was here to protect us, in their sleep, and executed the wounded.”_

_More people have started gathering watching the heated exchange between the new elected Chancellor and their former leader, as Octavia gets closer to Clarke afraid that this will not end well for her friend._

_“Your bullets won’t last you forever and when they run out … what are you going to do then?” she smirks sarcastically at him._

_“I’ll make sure to save the last one for her!”_

_Octavia speedily steps in front of Clarke, grabbing at her clothes to ease her back, keeping Clarke’s balled up fists away from Pike’s face._

_Clarke’s jaw contracts, eyes irate, teeth clenching, her neck vein threatening to burst. She holds contact with his eyes, watching his smug face._

_“Clark!” Octavia tries to snap her out of it._

_"This is the last time you defy me Clarke,” he speaks easily, unmoved by her. He leisurely strolls his way back to her, Octavia still between the two. “You’re either with me or against me.”_

_Clarke knows where her loyalties lie but defying Pike at this moment would do her no good, she knows this. She knows she cannot help her people from within a cell, so she masks her disgust and anger and slowly takes a couple of step backwards._

_“Good,” he nods._

_When the mob clears out and everyone resumes to their daily jobs or activities, Clarke glances at Octavia to find her giving her a disapproving look. They exchange a light laugh and bump shoulders and began to retreat back inside when the informant stops the blonde and hands her a small wooden box._

_“What’s this?”_

_“A gift, from L-” he halts immediately when he receives a stern look once again. “From the Commander.”_

_Clarke steals a quick glance to the box in her hands. “Why didn’t you give this to me in front of Pike?”_

_“Cause she vowed to cut off both my hands if I did.”_

_Clarke cannot help the snigger that escapes her lips as they curl into a smile._

_The blonde gets away from Octavia and opens the box in the confines of her room._

Octavia glances at the blonde, who once again has her eyes fixated onwards looking forward to seeing Polis come into vision.

 

“You’ll be with her soon,” she says, resulting in Clarke turning her head to find the brunette smiling knowingly at her.

 

Clarke can hardly hold back her own smile from knowing that she will soon be with Lexa.

 

* * *

 

 

The Commander stands at the head of the war table, her features as hard as the material that her palms are harshly resting against, nails scratching discreetly at the wood. 

 

“Heda this has gone on long enough,” Indra says crossing the room. “The clans will not stand for this any longer.”

 

Lexa shifts her eyes for a moment before attaching them back to Indra’s and speaks calmly but assertively. “Are you saying they will defy me?”

 

“I’m saying the blockade has been set up for nearly a month and everyone’s patience grows thin.”

 

Lexa turns, giving her back to the Chief of Tondc, her expression breaking, as her eyes shut and she releases a silent sigh. _It’s been a month,_ she thinks. A month without her.

 

The Commander had grown accustomed to being alone. _To be Heda is to be alone_ , Titus’ words echo in her head. She was born to be Heda, to lead her people and fulfill her duties to them – nothing more, nothing less. She had accepted that love will make her weak, that to survive one most not show any signs of weakness. However, ever since Clarke came into her life she found herself questioning all that she once accepted. Their morals and code of behaviour under scrutiny, their lifestyles and customs being disputed. Nevertheless, Lexa found that the biggest change was within herself. Her purpose in life was no longer crystal clear. Suddenly, her bed feels colder, her fingertips ache to trace soft skin, her green orbs misplaced staring at objects that were not Clarke. They seek to find sky blue eyes, broad smiles, and delicate features. In recent days, the only thing Lexa has become certain of is of how much she aches for the blonde, her warm touch, her woodsy smell. She finds herself desperate even for their heated arguments. She yearns for every moment. She longs for all of her. She wants her. Only her.

 

“It takes as long as it takes,” Lexa says in a low voice.

 

“The clans will not accept this. These folly ideas that Clarke is putting in your he-”

 

Indra gets promptly cut off when the Commander raises her hand and commands, “Em pleni!”

 

The older brunette waits, head lowered in submission to her leader, as the younger brunette turns back to face her. “Clarke,” she says softly, “She may be the person who has brought these ideas to me, but she is not the reason I have accepted them.”

 

Indra throws Lexa a questioning look but remains respectfully silent, prompting Lexa to clarify. “I truly believe that jus drein jus daun is no longer always the answer. If we don’t progress ourselves, we will all perish. Going to war will end well for no one. All we’ll ever know is war. Until there is no one left to fight in one.” The Commander lowers her head for a moment, before she speaks again. “Clarke may have spoken of the difference between justice and vengeance, but it is I who chose to see it.” She raises her head to find Indra contemplating, sensing that she has finally gotten through to the Chief.  “We can have justice, Indra, without going to war… without letting any more innocent people die. It is why Clarke has returned to Arkadia. She will see to it that those that have done wrong are punished, but only them. Enough innocent lives have been lost.”

 

The woman opposite the Commander sighs silently and nods, not only acknowledging her Heda’s words but also understanding them and accepting them.

 

“Forgive me Heda …” Indra utters, and with a nod from the Commander she proceeds, “We have not heard word from Clarke since she left Polis.”

 

“I’m aware of this Indra,” she harshly speaks, urging the other brunette to get to her point and she does.

 

“We don’t even know what is taking place in Arkadia under Pike. For all we know Clarke is detained or dead.”

 

Lexa’s eyes immediately shoot up. Fear spreads through her entire framework, reaching her eyes. Without warning her body goes cold, her blood rushing to her heart, leaving the rest of her body exposed from its warmth.

 

Lexa instantly gives her back to Indra once again in attempt to conceal her trepidation. “She’s fine.” The declaration is meant to be unequivocal but her voice shakes with distress, threatening to break, revealing her pretend. “She’s a warrior,” she proclaims more to herself than to the Chief.

 

Abruptly she starts to feel overwhelmed. Her heart aches in her chest, beating heavily, as lightening pain spreads across her left pectoral muscles. Her insides feeling hollow. Her muscles trembling and twitching, all the way to her tingling hands and feet. Her stomach threatening to give out. Her lungs aching for air, her sternum heaving up and down – suddenly she cannot breathe.

 

“Get out!” she barely gasps out.

 

“Heda?” The Chief attempts to take a step forward but is quickly reprimanded.

 

“Now!”

 

Indra heads towards the exist and with a single glare at the guards, sends them out too. The instant Lexa finds herself alone, she spins and lands her sweaty palms on top of the desk.  She bows her head, chocking on air, nails digging into the hard surface. The brunette pulls back her head, aching for oxygen that cannot seem to find access to her lungs. She pants heavily whilst crossing over to a chair, slumping her entire weight on it. She takes short, quick breaths, trying to draw in oxygen. Air starts to slowing fill her lungs, as her heart beat levels down. Her head drops into her palms, fatigued, throbbing against her hands.

 

The sound of the doors opening charge her out of the sense of vulnerability she has found herself in. Promptly she sits up, back hard against her chair, shoulders no longer slumped forward, her head held high, her jaw stiff as the rest of her body, expression hardened.

 

“Not now!” she commands.

 

“Heda this is important,” the dark-skinned, tall, built man announces.

 

She eyes him, her stern expression burning at him, her jaw contracting. She is about to scold him when she remembers her duties as Heda and calmly speaks, “What is it now?”

 

“It’s about Wanheda!”

 

Lexa’s jaw tightens further. She gulps inaudibly.

 

“She’s requesting access past the blockade.”

 

Lexa cannot hold back the silent sigh of relief that escapes past her lips, her eyes shutting momentarily. Her eyes shift once again as confusion surges through her body. “Has she spoken as to why she seeks access beyond the blockade?”

 

“She wishes to deliver you news on Arkadia personally,” he answers, creating a smile that threatens to tug at Lexa’s lips. Observing the Commander’s silence, he continues. “She is not alone.” This immediately pulls Lexa’s attention. “She’s accompanied by Okteivia kom Skaikru.”

 

Lexa nods, more to herself than at her soldier. “Very well. See to it yourself that they both reach Polis safely. No harm is to come to either one of them.”

 

With a nod, he takes his leave.

 

When Lexa finds herself alone once again in the war room, she can no longer hold back the smile that has been straining to form. She smiles broadly at the thought of seeing Clarke once more.

 

* * *

 

“Heda is in the war room.” A young teenager announces. Clarke recognizes her from the day the Nightbloods were gathered around Lexa in the throne room. She observes the deep gash on the girl’s left cheek, bruised a dark grey from her black blood.

 

Clarke gently grabs the girl’s cheek, examining the wound more closely.

 

“She’s my second.” The dark man that guided them back to Polis announces. Clarke turns her face to the man to acknowledge his spoken words. “She’s a strong fighter. A brave warrior,” he speaks proudly.

 

“I’m sure she is,” Clarke smiles at him and redirects it to the girl. The girl lowers her eyes and head in modesty. Clarke lightly lifts her chin back up, silently proclaiming that the girl has nothing to be embarrassed about. “Come to me later. I will get that checked for you.”

 

The girl kindly nods her head, as a faint smile appears on her face, broadening the smile already in existence on the blonde’s face. With a signal from her mentor the girl hurries off.

 

“We’re low on healers at the moment,” he announces. “Come on. Follow me.” He walks off, prompting Clarke and Octavia to follow.

 

Clarke would have sworn on her way over, that the way to the war room was the longest walk of her entire life, but when she abruptly finds herself outside colossal wooden doors, suddenly the walk seems too short. Her heart has been beating so fast, fluttering in her chest, so loud that her heartbeat rings in her ears, silencing the world around her. Her breath is shaky, throat constrict. She clenches her fists tightly, until her nails start to leave crescent moons into her palms. Soon the taste of blood fills her mouth from gnawing on the inside of her cheek. She’s wished for this moment to come since the second she departed from Lexa’s bedroom, but now that it is here, she finds herself more nervous than ever before. However, her pause is cut short when Octavia reaches for Clarke’s arm, pulling the blonde away from her delirious state.

 

“Clarke?”

 

The blonde looks at the questioning looks coming from her brunette friend and the man next to the door. Octavia’s expression softens, understanding the blonde’s nervous excitement. She gives Clarke a gentle smile and tugs her arm. “Come on. It’ll be just fine. I’m sure she’s dying in there waiting to see you.” She turns quickly to the man. “Figuratively.”

 

Clarke’s mood gets lightened as she scoffs at her friend’s remark and the man’s faux glare. With a heavy audible sigh, she nods and waits for the man to open the doors.

 

* * *

 

 

Lexa is sitting in her chair, head in her left palm, her poor posture displaying her nervous demeanor. Her stomach shifts irritatingly, dangerously feeling vile. She inhales a deep breath, that escapes moments later past her lips, as her head falls back away from her hand. Her eyes teary from oxygen deprivation. Hands claps and unclasp, fingers intertwine and twist, then untangle almost instantly, as if in constant need of touch and reassurance. With a final huff and puff she stands, crossing the room, and begins a restless stride, pacing from one side of the room to the either. Soon enough she starts to break a sweat from her tense tread and the overbearing distress. Her feet halt for a moment, her hand coming up to her forehead, wiping away the sweat. Just as quickly as her limbs had stopped working, they start lengthening and shortening to get her from one end of the room to the other. Her arms come up to hug her mid-section.

 

With a final puff, Lexa strides back to her chair when the doors made of timber behind her groan with their shifted-weight, creaking against the hinges, halting her movement. She spins abruptly, facing the intruder.

 

“Heda,” he says respectfully.

 

Lexa’s eyes cross in confusion and is on the verge of questioning him, when she sees blonde hair come into view from behind him. She draws in a gasp, chocking on the air, visibly swallowing the lump that has quickly gathered in her throat, blocking her airway.

 

Their eyes lock.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) Okay so.. wow. I honestly wasn't expecting such a good response to this but I was really amazed with the reaction. My heart jumped with every kudos, comment and bookmark, so massive thank you! Keep it up, it really helped me to write faster. 
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this one!

Their eyes lock.

Clarke has never been in this room before, but she does not bother to observe it. She takes no notice of how poorly lit it is, the minimal openings in the walls draped over by dark, heavy fabrics, the war table crowded by the lit candles, because the room is being set alight by Lexa’s shining green orbs. She fails to see the smaller alloy tables encompassing the room, since all the metal she can focus on is hugging Lexa’s body, the Commander fully dressed in her armour with her red cloth hanging off her shoulder, behind her. Clarke overlooks the painted symbols on the walls, as her eyes can’t seem to leave Lexa’s, which are masked delicately in black paint, all the way down her cheekbones. She neglects the fact that Indra has joined their presence and greeted Octavia, the two brunettes locking arms, displaying a subtle smile.

Lexa is still struggling to breathe. However, this time it feels different. It no longer feels as though she might suffocate from her anxiety, but as if she is drowning in Clarke’s vicinity. The Commander’s eyes leave sky blue for a short moment, but long enough to travel down Clarke’s body leisurely. Her chest heaves up and down slightly, heart pounding inside her ribs. Her mouth is dry, lips slightly parted. When green and blue are reattached, Lexa sees how Clarke’s glint with devilish intent, her lips forming a smug smile. Clarke slightly tilts her head, her expression displaying all the sinful ideas running through her head, as her eyebrows raise and fall back into place, the blonde clearly toying with the Commander.

Lexa cannot help how her lips spread into a smile at having being caught eyeing the blonde up and down and at Clarke’s unsubtle behaviour. The smile reaches her eyes and the warmness of the moment spreads warmly in her chest, making her heart tremor.

Their brief moment of bliss, of smiles, of intense stares, is broken by a tactful cough coming from Indra and Octavia’s direction. Neither Clarke nor Lexa know who it belongs to but they quickly clear their own throats, falling back into Wanheda and Heda, respectively.

“Heda,” Clarke speaks first, her smile still tugging at her lips.

The sound of Clarke’s voice makes Lexa gasp silently. Something erupts inside her making her body temperature rise - she is burning up.

“Clarke.”

Her name falls so softly from Lexa’s lips it makes the blonde shudder, her body, contrary to Lexa’s, running cold from the sudden exposure of Lexa’s gentle, throaty voice. Her excitement exhilarates her entire body, quickly turning her body from feeling chilly to a hot mess.

Clarke takes a cautious step towards Lexa, which makes Lexa replicate the action, helping in shortening the distance between them.

Their eye contact never breaks and neither does the curve in their lips.

Now that all personal space was invaded, their skin was burning more than ever, aching to be touched, their lips trembling with need, their heart fluttering with anticipation, but they stand still, now fully aware of the presence in the room.

“You have news for me, Klark kom Skaikru?”

Lexa speaks first trying to break the tension between them, knowing that if she did not she would surge forward and take Clarke in her arms. Lexa still catches herself being surprised by her sudden craving for affection, though she makes no attempt to fight it, letting it brew inside her.

“Yes, Heda,” Clarke says nodding her head. “Pike is dead.” She halts for effect, letting Lexa nod in understanding. “Marcus has been reinstated as Chancellor and is putting Arkadia back in order.”

On the dot, Titus walks through the door and takes Lexa’s side, Clarke eyeing him dangerously. Lexa catches it and although she’s aware of the tension between the Sky girl and her adviser, she’s suspicious of the way blue eyes are burning at the bald man.

“How?” Lexa asks, interrupting Clarke’s heavy glare.

Clarke averts her eyes from Titus, slightly shaking herself back to Lexa. When Clarke remains quiet, having missed the Commander’s question, Lexa tries again, still perfectly calm and patient. “What happened in Arkadia, Clarke?”

“I’ll get to that in a moment.”

Lexa tilts her head in question, wondering what could be more important right now than to discuss Pike’s fall in power after having him be the cause to their problems for weeks, bringing them on the brink of war. 

“Stedaunon don gon we; kikon ste enti,” Clarke recites the words Lexa told her once.

Lexa is so mesmerized by Clarke speaking in her language she nearly fails to catch her words, but when she observes Clarke boring her eyes at Titus once again, she brings herself out of her trance.

Clarke’s pupils are blown up, staring angrily at Titus. However, he remains still, unmoved, unbothered, hands resting over another, leisurely at his front. His eyes are calm, his face as stern as always, showing no emotion or annoyance at the blonde.

“Clarke?” Lexa questions, making her turn her head back to her once again.

“Forgive me Heda, there is no easy way of asking this … Are you aware that Titus has imprisoned a sky person and tortured them underground?” Clarke questions.

Lexa’s eyes widen instantly at the accusation, mouth falling agape, head altering between Titus and Clarke.

“Lies!” Titus yells assertively.

“They’re not,” Octavia announces, stepping forward.

“How do you know this?” Lexa questions, strutting towards Octavia.

“Because Murphy escaped and told us,” Octavia answers.

“Murphy?”

Clarke steps closer to Lexa and says, “He was with us,” she points to Octavia and continues, “when we were sent to the ground first.”

Lexa turns to acknowledge Clarke, then faces Titus who has been standing motionless this whole time. She sighs, facing Clarke again. “And you trust this Murphy?”

“I trust that he’s telling the truth,” Clarke says.

Lexa stands between Titus and Clarke, head turning from left to right. She watches Clarke’s rage and Titus’ calm exterior. She faces Titus and shouts “Ron ai ridiyo op nau, Titus.” 

“Emo ste spichen,” he answers calmly.

“We are not lying,” Clarke jumps in, defending them.

“Nou mou gon dish,” Lexa silences them both. She walks up to Titus, hands turning to fists in anger. “Swega em kiln,” she commands him.

“You trust her but not me?” He utters, first signs of his anger finally showing.

“Answer me and we shall find out if my trust has been misplaced or not,” Lexa urges him, with an authoritarian expression. “Don’t lie to me, Titus.” 

The Flamekeeper bows is head, his façade at long last put to rest. “I was merely trying to protect you, Heda,” he says.

Lexa shuts her eyes momentarily in frustration, shaking her head in disbelief, releasing a hot breath. She turns away from him and looks at the three women who quickly comprehend that Lexa wishes for a moment alone with Titus. After bowing their heads in respect, they step outside. The instant the doors are shut, guards standing behind them, she spins and charges at Titus. “I have had enough of this Titus. Explain yourself.”

When Titus’ head remains slumped forward and his lips remain shut, she snaps. “Nou!”

“He had the sacred symbol, Heda,” he starts. “I thought it was best to see what he knew and why he had it.”

“You thought? And you didn’t think it was important for me to be informed of this?”

“I was trying to protect you Heda,” he repeats.

“It is not your job to protect me. It is your job to advise me.  It is not your job to go behind my back, making decisions of your own as to whom gets questioned or tortured. You do not have the authority to make these decisions, or any other. Ai laik Heda! You answer to me. You serve me, understood?” Lexa shouts, asserting her authority, putting him in his place.

“Ai badan yu op en nou moun,” he says.

“Good. You’d do well to remember that,” she speaks calmly now. “You are good advisor Titus. You have been by my side from the very start. Do not disappoint me now by your foolish thinking. You need to trust that I can protect myself and that every decision I make is for the good of the people. Do not question me.”

“Sha, Heda.”

* * *

 

Clarke is standing on the other side of the doors, ambulating around, tangling her fingers together, then releasing them, only to repeat the motion over and over. Her body is restless. She cannot get herself to be still since she found that being motionless makes her even more agitated, so she’s roving her nervousness away. 

“Oh my God, will you stop?” Octavia shouts from where she’s leaning against a wall, her hand coming up to her head. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“You think she’s mad at me?” Clarke asks, ignoring Octavia’s request for she continues fidgeting.

“You’re like a love-sick puppy,” Octavia grumbles.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clarke admonishes her, stealing a quick glance at her, still pacing back and forth. She inadvertently locks eyes with Indra, who was leaning opposite Octavia, and detects the slight eye roll from her. This is when it truly hits Clarke.

She realizes how her demeanour has faltered, giving away her emotional state. Suddenly she feels undressed of all the pretenses she had put on over the years. Through time, especially since her time on the ground, she had learned to cast aside her emotions, to not let herself be vulnerable, to be ruthless and headstrong when she needed to be, to be brave. Now, however, she finds herself being submissive to her feelings, as though her body has taken over without her consent and she could do nothing to stop it.

Clarke feels the sudden agitation rise up her chest, into her neck, clenching at her throat. She’s about to choke on the air when the doors swiftly spring open and Lexa’s eyes instantly find hers, despite the distance between them. Her panic fades away the moment green eyes flash at her. There is something in Lexa’s soft and gentle eyes that make Clarke feel safe.

Titus exists from inside the room, breaking their eye contact. Lexa gives Clarke her back, making it impossible to observe her expression. The blonde turns to the women still in the open corridor, now standing up straight and with a nod all is agreed that Clarke is to have a few moments alone with Lexa.

When Clarke finally manages to get her feet to move inside the war room, the guards close the doors and station themselves in front of the frame, within the room itself.

Clarke wishes to have more privacy to talk to Lexa but she knows she’ll take what she can get at this point.

“Have I angered you?” Clarke chokes out when Lexa still hadn’t turned to face her.

But she does now. “No,” she tells her softly. “Perhaps I-”

Lexa’s words fade from her, so Clarke tries to help her finish the sentence. “Got disappointed?”

When Lexa neither confirms nor denies that statement, Clarke knows it to be true.

“Lexa, I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to accuse you that you knew about Murphy. I just didn’t know how to tell you and it came out wrong. I know you didn’t know.”

“How?”

There is a long pause, but Clarke knows she must admit this to Lexa now more than ever. She’s just trying to find her courage that she knows still resides somewhere within herself. She takes a tentative step towards her and with a heavy sigh she tells her, “Because I trust you.”

Lexa’s entire body goes cold. She fears that her heart and lungs have lastly given out on her. Her eyes well up with tears, her jaw contracts trying to keep them at bay, teeth biting into her cheeks.

Clarke watches Lexa unravel before her and her heart flutters at the sight. She cannot believe how much – this idiot she calls her in her head – let’s herself be defenseless for her.

“Don’t ask me how,” Clarke chuckles lightly trying to lighten the mood, missing Lexa’s smile. “I just know I do.”

When Lexa finally lets a smile appear, Clarke cannot help the way her own grin spreads wider on her own face.

Staring at a beaming Lexa, Clarke’s insides splinter and she can no longer fight the urge. Before she’s even aware of her own movement, she has Lexa’s right hand in hers and is inches away from her face.

Lexa’s eyes dart to her guards in panic, silently alerting Clarke of their presence, but Clarke is still advancing forward.

With her breath on Lexa’s lips, Clarke whispers, “I don’t care.”

It’s not said with disrespect – no, it is said with desperation.                             

Her lips attach themselves to Lexa’s.

It is one firm, unaggressive, long, gentle, intense, calm, kiss. Clarke lips break from Lexa’s but neither one of them moves apart. Their noses are softly caressed, lips teasingly brushing together, their hot, gasping breath on each other.

They’ve both lost the capacity to breathe. That one single kiss ripped them both of their ability to function, beyond each other.

Clarke remains still despite wanting nothing more than to join her lips with Lexa’s again. However, she’s respectfully waiting for Lexa to push her off her if she wishes to. She does not desire to be forceful at this moment.

All the same, Clarke’s body is on fire at Lexa’s proximity. She can feel their chest’s heaving against each other’s, their grazed lips quivering, their bodies trembling, encompassed in the warmth surrounding their bodies. Clarke can’t resist any longer.

She smoothly alternates the position of their faces, and places a light peck on Lexa’s lips, pleading for permission.

Lexa knows she should protest in the name of her title, but the way Clarke is being so gentle and desperate with her at this moment is melting her, and she knows she can’t resist even if she wants to. She doesn’t want to. She wants Clarke’s lips back on hers. Without another thought, Lexa is the one surging forward to secure her lips with Clarke’s.

Clarke immediately responds to the kiss and their lips start moving against each other in such a gentle but desperate manner, and they both know for certain now that it was foolish of them to even think they could resist this.

They’re wholeheartedly kissing one another, their fingers now intertwined at their sides. 

Their kisses are short, resembling pecks, but somehow more, enough to be joined together for a moment before they’re broken away, and then reattached. It’s tender, and slow, and unforceful, and it has both of their hearts fluttering in their chests and butterflies swarming in their stomachs. 

At this moment the Commander slips away from Lexa and she finds herself stripped of her title and her duties and stands bare simply as Lexa, kissing Clarke. Presently all that is left is Lexa and Clarke.

“I missed you,” Clarke whispers against Lexa’s lips in between kisses.

She has no idea how the words escape her but when Lexa smiles into the next kiss, Clarke can’t bring herself to care about her slip up.

“Heda?”

They’re jolted apart by a loud voice, both now staring at the guards at the door who respectfully have their heads down.

“Heda, the ambassadors and officials have all gathered. May we enter?”

This is when Lexa and Clarke both realize that the voice belongs to Titus, who is standing behind those closed doors.

Lexa has a brief moment to composure herself and when the guards look up to take her orders, she nods. On cue the guards close the distance between each other to come closer to the door knobs, but not before they receive a threatening glare from Clarke, warning them that if they speak of this to anyone they will have to deal with Wanheda.

When the two male guards finally come within proximity of each other, the shorter one murmurs, “You owe me your next hunt,” earning him a scowl from the taller man at having lost the bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Klark kom Skaikru - Clarke of the Sky People  
> Stedaunon don gon we; kikon ste enti - The dead are gone; the living are hungry  
> Ron ai ridiyo op nau, Titus - Speak true, Titus  
> Emo ste spichen - They lie  
> Nou mou gon dish - No more of this  
> Swega em kiln - Swear it  
> Nou - Now  
> Ai badan yu op en nou moun - I serve you and no one else  
> Sha - Yes
> 
> Ps. Let me know if you'd rather I won't use Trigedasleng as often or if you'd prefer for me to put the translation immediately after the line. Cause I know it can get a bit confusing sometimes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people ! 
> 
> First of all I'm sorry this took a while. Life has been crazy these past few weeks. You know how life and school work gets sometimes. But just to let y'all know that I have every intention of finishing this! Just might take a little while for me to update sometimes. 
> 
> Second of all this entire chapter is a flashback. I wanted nothing more than to ignore the whole Pike storyline bullshit but I wanted to explain how Clarke could go back to Lexa, I didn't wanna leave plot holes cause those are annoying as fuck. Originally I was going to put short flashbacks in every chapter but I figured that was going to get confusing and angsty and so it's being done in one chapter. So you can look at this chapter as a fill-in chapter. 
> 
> Also this chapter is 3 times the usual length so hopefully you'll forgive me for not updating earlier.

_“Are you sure this is going to work?”_

_“It has to work,” Clarke says, rising her head to meet Octavia’s eyes. “Our plan might not be perfect, but it’s all we got.” Octavia nods, as Clarke sighs. “When have our plans truly worked without a glitch anyway?” Clarke scoffs, earning herself a chuckle from the brunette opposite her._

_A distant, persistent cough is heard, alerting them both that company is coming. Octavia quickly gathers all the plans and papers and hides them under the bed, flattening the sheets, whilst Clarke quickly throws the radios and other equipment in her drawer, shutting it just a second before the guards appear._

_“I’ll check this one.”_

_The other guards nod to her and move along._

_She approaches Octavia and Clarke rapidly. She glances behind her and when she sees the door vacant from any presence, she turns back to them and the three of them sigh._

_“Thanks Harper, that was a close call,” Octavia says._

_“You need to be more careful,” Harper warms them._

_“Just a couple of hours left and all this will be over,” Clarke speaks. “One way or another.”_

_They all stay silent for a while, thinking over the events that are about to transpire._

_Releasing a shaky breath, Clarke speaks again, “Did you get Gillmer off duty?”_

_“Yeah,” Harper answers promptly with a smile. “He’s sleeping soundly in a broom closet I found.”_

_“Sounds uncomfortable,” Clarke chuckles._

_“Oh definitely. Made sure he was laid out in the most awkward position ever.”_

_They all share a light laugh, fully-aware of the dangerous situation they have found themselves in but choosing to just ignore that for a little while to appreciate each other’s company, whilst they still can._

_“Damn, what did Abby give you?”_

_“Don’t know … she said they were enough to make him pass out for a few hours,” Harper tells Octavia._

_“Well I should get me some.” Octavia chuckles, making the other two grin._

_Clarke reaches across their space to put a gentle hand on Octavia’s knee and sighs. “We all haven’t been sleeping well, but we will tonight.”_

_Octavia smiles at her. “Let’s hope so.”_

_Clarke turns her attention to Harper and smiles. “Thank you, for helping us.”_

_“Of course,” she replies. “It’s for Monroe. She shouldn’t have-“_

_Harper’s voice hitches, her hazel eyes filling up with tears that are threatening to fall any moment._

_“We know.” Clarke says, removing her palm from Octavia’s knee to grab Harper’s hand, in attempt to comfort her._

_“I’m just sorry she had to … for me to realize I was on the wrong side.” Harper chokes on her words, still unable to voice that Monroe was truly gone._

_“She will not be lost to us in vain, I promise,” Clarke tells her, purposely avoiding to use the word ‘died’ as to not upset the blonde further._

_Harper nods at her and quickly raises her free hand to wipe away the tear that she could no longer hold back._

_“I should go. I need to finish up pretending to do the morning rounds.”_

_Harper smiles at them bravely, enlisting a slight smirk from Clarke and Octavia, and with a nod that their plan is fully in motion, she exists the room._

_“By the way,” Clarke starts, looking at the brunette still sitting in front of her. “Pretty sure I know what those pills are and that they make you get gastrointestinal disturbances,” Clarke tell her with a grin._

_“And just like that I don’t want them anymore.” Octavia grimaces. “Damn Gillmer is going to have a rough day.”_

_They share a laugh, causing them to forget for just a short while that they are about lead a mutiny._

* * *

 

_“Position check?”_

_Clarke releases the button on her radio and waits for her accomplices on the other side of the radio to respond._

_“Check,” Abby says._

_“Check.” Marcus’ voice is heard._

_“In position,” Harper tells them._

_“Let’s go bitches,” Octavia announces._

_When the radio goes silent, Clarke’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Hold on. Monty?” Clarke and the others wait for a response, holding their breath. “Monty?”_

_“Yeah, I’m here.”_

_They all release a heavy sigh when they hear his voice come through the radio, relieved that their plan is thus far working._

_“Had a bit of a problem getting in the control room, but I’m in,” he says, looking over at the two guards passed out on the floor. He signals to Bryan that he’s good and Bryan exists the control room to guard it from outside._

_“Good. Alright. Miller should be in position as well,” Clarke tells them. “On my mark.” Clarke rolls up her sleeve to reveal her watch on her wrist._

_Clarke’s watching the hands wind down the time, the ticking matching her own heavy heartbeat. She feels as though her pair of organs situated in her rib cage are no longer working as they should, oxygen not passing through to her blood stream, her body suffocating on the carbon dioxide. Her entire body has run cold, all the muscles in her body as still as a statute’s. All that is present in this moment, is the clicking sound of her watch coordinating the pounding of her pulse._

_As the final few seconds clock down, Clarke’s mind shifts to Eden-like green eyes, as resolute and cogent as ever, whilst their owner murmurs the words inside her head, in that same clearness as if it was happening again._

Victory stands on the back of sacrifice.

_With a final prayer for the sacrifice to be paid on this day to not be too large for any of them to bare, the final second was up._

_“Go,” Clarke alerts everyone through the radio, and just like that they are all on the move._

* * *

_Harper is moving rapidly towards Pike’s headquarters, with an M4a1 in hand. When the guard stationed at the Chancellor’s doors sees the firearm, he tenses his grip on his, but quickly relaxes when he observes the oncoming girl’s clothes, realizing she’s also a guard. As Harper gets closer, he also recognizes who the girl is._

_“Harper?”_

_“Hey Denby,” Harper greets him casually. “Gillmer can’t relieve you for his shift cause he ate something and it gave him some weird allergic reaction,” she grimaces. “I can take over your shift if you want?”_

_Denby observes her for a moment, nods and hurriedly walks off, grateful to be off duty for a while. When he turns around the corner, Harper reaches for her radio._

_“I’m clear.”_

* * *

_Clarke is trying to keep herself from pacing, so instead she stands in the same position, anxiously tapping her left foot, biting lightly on her right thumb._

_“I’m clear,” is heard through her radio._

_The sound comes so suddenly, she nearly fumbles her radio and drops it to the ground. Luckily, she retakes a strong possession of it, and quickly walks to the door, hiding behind the frame, waiting. When Denby, finally walks past her, she speaks into her radio, “I’m on my way, Harper. Octavia, Mom you’re good to go. Remember you got eight minutes before the next guard routine check-up in your area.”_

_“Got it,” Abby tells her._

_“Marcus,” she starts but before she can finish her sentence he’s already answering her._

_“Yes Clarke, on my way to you right now.”_

_As he finishes his sentence, she sees him come into view at the end of the corridor._

_He jogs the rest of the way, and she joins him, till they’re basically sprinting towards the Chancellor’s headquarters._

_When they turn the final corner, they can almost see Harper release a sigh of relief._

_“Monty?” Clarke pants into her radio, walking the final few steps, trying to ease her breathing. “We’re here.”_

_“Working on it,” he replies._

_She glances at her watch. They have four and half minutes left till the next guard routine check-up in this area._

* * *

 

_Abby and Octavia are coolly strutting down the corridors. With a final glace and a nod at each other, they turn the final corner, heading towards the detained grounders._

_“Stop right there,” one of the guards commands them._

_“I need to give them their medicine,” Abby tells him, stepping closer._

_The tall, muscular man holds his stern position, glancing from the doctor to Octavia._

_“She has no business here,” he says._

_“What you going to do about it?” Octavia challengers him, with a smug expression on her face._

_The guard takes a step towards Octavia, leaving Abby slightly behind him and that’s when the doctor finds her opportunity to attack. She strikes fast and hard like a venomous viper, stretching her arm rapidly to reach his exposed neck and injects him with a drug. He hisses and whines in pain, his eyes bulging out, arms attempting to reach the injection embedded in his neck, but before he can, he falls to the ground with a loud thud._

_Miller and the other young guard take out their guns the second they see him collapse._

_“Hands up,” the younger one commands them._

_Abby and Octavia tentatively put their arms up, as Miller approaches Abby and the other guard approaches Octavia. When he’s close enough to Octavia, she knocks the firearm out of his hands so quickly he doesn’t even realize what has happened till it’s too late. With a kick to his shin, he’s down on one knee, and with another to his side of the head, he’s out cold, face planted against the cool hard floor. She roughly takes the guards arm to look at his watch and turns to Abby._

_“You’ve got 70 seconds. Go!”_

_With that Abby nods, and runs off, leaving Octavia and Miller behind._

_Miller bends down to the muscular guard to retrieve the keys and once he does he goes to free the detained grounders inside, whilst Octavia is busy disarming both men._

_Lincoln comes out of the cell first and instantly embraces Octavia._

_“We’ll have time for that later,” she tells him with a smile. She looks at Miller and says, “We’ve got less than 3 minutes, we need to get everybody cleared out.”_

* * *

 

_"_ _Abby,” Marcus says as he sees her running towards them._

_Clarke, Harper and Marcus have been waiting for Abby to join them, whilst Monty works from the control room, still in communication through the radio device._

_“Any second would be great Monty,” Clarke snarls._

_“Do you want to come do it yourself?”_

_She sighs heavily, bringing up her forearm to her forehead, wiping the sweat that has gathered there. She starts pacing back and forth, as the others stand relatively still, watching her. To distract herself for a moment she turns to her mother and asks, “Everything go well with Octavia?”_

_Her mother nods, taking a step towards her daughter, gently placing her hand on her arm. “Are you alright?”_

_“I’ll be alright when we open this door,” she bites back._

_She starts walking back and forth again, taking a look at her watch for the hundredth time that day._

_“Monty, twenty-two seconds!”_

_At that they all jointly look at the empty corridor that is threatening to not remain vacant anymore._

* * *

 

_Octavia, Lincoln and Miller have gotten all the detainees out and into safety as quickly as possible. Miller leads them to a safe room, whilst Lincoln and Octavia stay behind and put the two guards on the floor inside the cell._

_Now they are waiting for the guards that are due to do the routine check-up, in order to detain them as well, so as for them not to raise any alarm as to what is going on._

_“How many?”_

_“Shouldn’t be more than two,” Octavia replies._

_However, as soon as she finishes her sentence, she distinctively makes out three voices coming their way._

_“Well what’s life without a little challenge,” she tells him with a happy and smug expression._

_When the cell comes into the guard’s view, they barely have a chance to react for they are being attacked. The first guard crashes to the ground with one herculean punch to the face from Lincoln. The other two are disarmed from their guns by Octavia before a single shot is even fired. Both guards pull out their batons and acknowledge that a battle is about to ensue. However, Octavia and Lincoln think otherwise. They realize this was going to be a merely just a training session for them._

_The guards attack first. Lincoln deflects easily ducking under the baton, followed by a back elbow to the guard’s face. As the guard holds his face, Lincoln punches him in the sternum, knocking the breath out of his lungs. When the guard crouches over, Lincoln delivers a deadly clothesline, dropping the guard on his back. Lincoln bends over the barely conscious body and with a hard punch to his jaw, he knocks him out._

_Meanwhile, Octavia has disarmed the other guard of his baton and is now delivering unrelenting punches and kicks to the guard’s body. She grabs hold of his collar and pulls him towards her to deliver a kick to his stomach, then pushes him away and back towards her to create momentum. With a third one, she pulls him with her as she moves backwards and slams his head into the wall behind her. He slides down the wall leaving a trail of blood behind._

_“Well that wasn’t even as challenging as I thought it would be,” she says, almost sounding disappointed, making Lincoln smile widely at her._

* * *

 

_“Monty, ten seconds,” Clarke shouts at him._

_Marcus takes the radio from Clarke, and puts in his encouragement, “Monty, open the door right now.”_

_“Having different people yell at me makes no difference.”_

_Clarke snatches the radio back._

_“Monty, six seconds. If you don’t open this door, I’m going to shove a tree branch up your -”_

_She doesn’t get to finish her threat for her radio gets confiscated by her mother, who sends her a pointed glare._

_Clarke lifts her hands in defense and throws her mother a challenging look. “I’m just saying,” she says, earning a slight eye roll from Abby._

_Meanwhile, Harper and Marcus have their eyes focused on the corridor, awaiting any incoming guards._

_“Monty,” Abby says softly, trying a different approach. “How we doing?”_

_“Almost have it.”_

_Clarke and Harper steal a glance at each other, whilst Abby’s dark brown’s find Marcus’. It is a search for reassurance, for support, for courage. A silent plea to not let one another despair._

_With the faint sound of heavy footsteps approaching them from a distant, their expression hardens, eyes panicking, hearts pounding loudly, ringing in their ears._

_“Get behind me,” Harper tells them, but Marcus steps forward and offers his hands to her, in order for her to give him the weapon, as to protect her._

_Harper looks down to his hands, expression softening for a moment in contemplation, before she shakes her head and growls, “No.”_

_Marcus respectfully nods in understanding and gets behind her with Clarke and Abby._

_Harper lifts her firearm closely to her face, pointing it forward, positioning herself at a strong stance. Her eyes are fixed forward, piercing and resolute. Not an ounce of fear resides in her any longer. She’s driven to be brave. Brave to honor every one of the 300 warriors that were shamefully slaughtered on that field that day, heroic so that no more innocent lives are lost to them, strong-willed to no longer be pushed around by people that are in this world only to take from her, courageous for all the people that depend on her on this day, and finally relentless in seeking justice. Her last thought before she sees two guards appearing at the far end of the corridor are distinct._

For Monroe.

_“Got it,” is heard loudly from the radio in Abby’s hand and surely enough it’s followed by a beep behind them, signalling that the door has opened._

_“Hey,” the tall guard yells at them, beginning to sprint towards them, the other guard following suit moments later._

_“Come on,” Clarke shouts._

_One by one they dart to the door, as Harper retreats backwards slowly, still covering them. Clarke is the first one inside, followed by her mother, Marcus waiting for them to all make it inside safely before him. When Harper realizes how much ground the guards are gaining, she knows that there is no time for the both of them to make it inside and close the door._ That door has to close _, she thinks. Without a single hesitation, she pushes Marcus inside, not giving him a chance to disapprove. With a hard pull and loud hiss, the door is closed, but she has no time to recollect herself and she pushed up against it, weapon falling to the floor._

* * *

 

_Pike is sitting at his desk, flipping through his paper, looking over the guard’s roster, when a sudden disturbance, brings him out of his contemplation. His clammy hand leaves his sweaty bald head, looking up at a distressed Clarke and Abby running into his headquarters, followed by a stunned Marcus. who stumbles inside._

_The door immediately shuts after Marcus, and there is a loud thud from outside, prompting Clarke to run back to the door, whilst Marcus collects himself._

_“Harper,” Clarke yells, banging against the door._

_There is another blaring crash across the metal, causing it to vibrate up against Clarke’s fingertips._

_Pike watches them with an amused expression on his face, arms folded, eyes at ease, entirely unbothered by their presence._

_“Can I help you with something?”_

_His voice is calm, exhibiting a sense of amusement._

_Clarke’s clanging seizes and she strolls to her mother’s side, taking the radio from her hands._

_“Monty,” she says._

_This is when it hits Pike that something more than he originally anticipated is going on. His eyebrows furrow in confusion and observation._

_“Clarke, did you make it?”_

_“Yes, but come round to the outside, Harper needs your help,” she tells him._

_“On it,” he answers._

_When Monty’s voice fades from the radio, Pike’s expression goes stern._

_“What is this?”_

_“Retribution,” Clarke claims, cuing a scoff from Pike._

_Marcus steals a glance at Abby and Clarke to his left and steps forward towards Pike and says, “It’s over Charles, you’re done.”_

_“Oh no, I’m just getting started,” he retorts with a smirk._

_“This cannot go on,” Marcus tells him. “The secret parties invading villages, the blindside slaughters of armies, the attempts to break through the border… you’ve brought us on the brink of war. I will not stand here and watch you kill us all. None of us will.”_

_Marcus looks over to Clarke and Abby once again, who are glaring dangerously at Pike._

_“What are you going to do about it?”_

_“It’s already done, Charles,” Marcus answers. “All of your guards are have been detained or are very well distracted as we speak.”_

_Pike’s face suddenly shifts from that of amusement to shock and quickly back to joviality._

_“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”_

_“No, our actions speak for themselves,” Abby cuts in. “We are in your headquarters after all. Shouldn’t there be a guard somewhere?_

_Abby’s devilish smirk gets wider when she observes Pike’s expression change to one of anger, his eyebrows furrowed, teeth slightly visible, clenching, and jaw tightening._

_“I’m trying to do what’s best for our people,” Pike proclaims through gritted teeth._

_“No,” is hulled at Pike by the three in his presence in union. Marcus and Abby halt their responses to allow Clarke to speak further._

_“Fighting against the grounders is not what is best for our people. You’re trying to fight an enemy that’s not there,” she states firmly. “Heda was generous enough to accept us into her collation. She strives for peace, and you seek war.”_

_“And you trust her intentions so blindly?”_

_“Yes,” she replies instantly without hesitation._

_“Interesting,” he remarks, furrowing his eyebrows sarcastically, placing his hands on his desk, leaning forward. “You know, considering last I heard she left you and our people stranded at Mount Weather.”  
_

_“Different circumstance.” She shakes her head at him. “I would have done the same.”_

_Abby and Marcus’ eyes break their line of sight from Pike to peak at each other. Whether it’s in surprise or curiosity at Clarke’s declaration, they are unsure._

_“Being a part of her collation not only means that we are safe from any armies attacking but also under her protection.,” she continues. “I do not understand why you fail to see this.”_

_“Because a part of her army attacked my people and killed half my station,” he barks back at her, pounding the table under his fists._

_“I’m sorry, for the people you lost, but war will not bring them back, it will just kill more of us,” Clarke explains._

_“Do you not seek justice?”_

_“You don’t seek justice,” she responds, shaking her head at him. “You seek vengeance.  Vengeance will not give you peace.”_

_“I’m trying to keep our people alive,” Pike says._

_“So are we,” Marcus interrupts._

_“Which is why this is no longer a discussion,” Clarke follows Marcus’ statement._

_Pike’s eyes dart between Clarke and Marcus in question, finally meeting Abby’s when she speaks._

_“Your guards will remain detained, till you vacate your position as Chancellor,” she explains prompting Pike to grimace. “And most of your followers have come to their senses and joined our cause to get you to step down.”_

_“There is no need for this to be messy,” Marcus adds. “Just hand over the Chancellor pin publicly to either one of us and you and your followers will be free, as long as you stay in line.”_

_“If not,” Clarke speaks. “I will see to it personally that you are handed to the Chief whose army you slaughtered. Then we will have justice… when the guilty answer for their actions, not the innocent.”_

_“I got to say, I’m quite impressed,” Pike speaks, sitting back down in his chair. “Taking out my guards, influencing my people, storming in my headquarters all self-righteous. Just, one problem …” He pauses for effect, easing Clarke, Abby, and Marcus into the mystery, making them observe him attentively. “You see,” he continues, pulling his arm from under the desk, placing his elbow on the table, sporting a pistol. “I’ve got the gun.”_

* * *

 

_"_ _So what you rascals up to this time exactly?” Lincoln asks with a smile, as him and Octavia carry the final unconscious body inside the cell._

_“Overthrowing Pike,” she answers, grunting from the weight of the guard. “Damn, he’s heavier than he looks.”_

_Lincoln laughs. “You realize I could have carried him all by myself right?”_

_“Yes, I’m aware,” she sneers jokingly, ogling Lincoln’s protruding muscles. “I just …”_

_“Hey,” he says. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I know you’re a great warrior. You always have been.”_

_She smiles at him and with a final grunt the knocked out guard hits the floor._

_The hard, fast, stomping of feet against the floor at a distance alerts Octavia and Lincoln, drawing them out of the cell. They both take a hard stance, awaiting the oncoming presence. Instead of the incomers turning towards them, they simply run past them, continuing to rush down the corridor._

_Then Octavia’s brain finally registers the two bodies that came and went. “Monty? Bryan?”_

_It comes out as more of a whisper, a question of confusion to herself, consequently not reaching Monty or Bryan’s ears._

_“Go,” Lincoln tells her, resulting in Octavia turning back to look at him in defiance but he’s insistent. “Go, I’ll lock them in and I’ll follow.”_

_With a nod, Octavia is off, following Monty and Bryan._

_Lincoln speedily pulls the gate of the cell closed and fumbles the keys to get it locked. When it’s done, he’s chasing after them to catch up._

_He’s already feeling overexerted from taking the guards out. Being on a minimal food diet, locked in a cell for weeks, most days suffering from dehydration, has caused him to be in a more fragile state. Still he carries on, grunting through his movements, his muscles having to cope with the fatigue that resides in them, his bones aching from neglected use. His dry lips are parted, gasping for oxygen, bearing the reality that he hasn’t breathed fresh air in weeks. The seemingly intense situation they have gotten themselves in isn’t helping either. He tries to remember his training, to remain composed, imperturbable, courageous and resolute. However, the instinctive thought to protect the ones he loves and cares about is quickly building up the fear and anxiety in his chest. His feet subconsciously start moving faster, in spite of the exhaustion in his body telling him not to._

_Octavia comes into view, and soon enough so do Monty and Bryan up ahead. They’re running up to Harper, who’s been restrained against a wall. He can see her squirming against their hold, attempting to kick at their shins. She’s clearly used up all her energy from fighting them off till the disadvantage in numbers caught up to her._

_When Bryan finally reaches the two guards, he grabs one of them from their jackets and pulls him off Harper. The instance Harper has one arm unrestrained, she uses that free hand to punch the guard holding her up, square in the face. He stumbles for moment, disorientated from the sudden hard hit to his face. In an attempt to regain his composure quickly he throws a punch at Harper, which she sidesteps speedily, causing for his knuckles to hit the wall with great force. He whimpers in pain, his knuckles crack and break against the hardness of the partition. One of Harper’s legs gets trapped between his body and she takes advantage of the situation, bringing her knee up harshly and kneeing him in his crotch. The guard groans, bending over in pain, one hand against the wall and the other holding his genitals, giving Harper the open opportunity to deliver another blow to the side of his head, knocking him face down to the ground. He remains still, barely conscious, mewling in his agony._

_The other guard has recovered from the unforeseen disturbance and is standing at a distance away from Bryan with his balled fists high in the air. He attempts to hit Bryan with his left fist which Bryan successively avoids, however he is caught straight in his nose with the right. When the guard sees him falter, he starts to deliver blow after blow to Bryan’s torso, followed by consecutive knees. He is finally thrown off when out of nowhere Octavia smashes into him with force and throws him against the opposing wall. He has no time to wallow in his pain for he finds himself on the receiving end of unrelenting kicks. With a final one, she pulls him over her knee, causing him to somersault over it, landing on his behind, where she delivers yet another kick, this time to his back. He falls to his side, groaning in pain and gasping for air that has been literally kicked out of his lungs._

_Before Lincoln can get in on the action, both of the guards are overpowered, laying on the ground a bleating mess._

_Bryan eventually stops his unrelenting coughing, holding his chest. “Remind me to never get into a fight with you two,” he says looking at Harper and Octavia, then to the two guards still whimpering on the floor. “Thanks for the help,” he tells Monty sarcastically, who had been standing there, observing this entire time._

_“Hey, I’m the engineer, not the combat expert. I’m not ashamed to admit when something isn’t my strong suit.”_

_Bryan facetiously rolls his eyes at Monty, whilst bringing his palm to his face, wiping the blood dripping from his nose using his backhand. The thick blood that gathered there, blocking his nasal cavity, makes him snort._

_“We should put these two with the others,” Lincoln suggests pointing down at the guards._

_“Yeah, you two go with Lincoln,” Octavia tells Monty and Bryan. “Me and Harper will stand guard and watch the door.”_

_With a nod, Lincoln kneels over the closest guard and picks him up and puts him over his shoulder, and with a final glance at Octavia he starts walking back to the holding cell._

_“Come on pretty boy, stop fusing,” Monty calls over to Bryan, who was still groaning with his head held back, holding his nose._

_“Is it broken?” he asks Octavia, who’s standing next to him._

_“If it’s not, I’m going to break it for you if you don’t get that guard out of sight before someone finds us,” she answers with a grin._

_“Feisty,” he grumbles under his breath, kneeling down next to the guard’s head, whilst Monty hovers over the feet._

_With a nod of confirmation, they lift up his body from the ground with a faint grunt._

_“You know I think it looks better than before,” Monty jokes._

_“Careful, don’t let Nathan here you say that,” Bryan grins sarcastically._

* * *

 

_Pike is standing behind his desk, gun pointed at Marcus._

_“Put the gun down, Charles,” Marcus suggests. “There is no need for anyone to get hurt.”_

_“You should have thought about that before you decided to commit treason,” he snaps back._

_“You should have thought about the consequences before you decided to commit genocide,” Clarke retorts, stepping forward, prompting Pike to change the gun’s direction to point at her instead._

_“I’d watch my step if I was you, Wanheda,” he spits out, voice thick with mockery and abhorrence. “You may be the Commander of the Death to them, but I assure you, if I pull this trigger the only thing you’d be commanding is a grave six feet under the ground.”_

_Pike’s face scowls at the mention of the grounders and their beliefs in Wanheda, his disdain evident is his voice and his expression, whilst Abby’s irritation of him threatening her daughter displays through her gritted teeth and her balled up fists at her sides._

_“You can’t kill me,” Clarke says with a grin on her face, shaking her head lightly at him._

_“Oh you think I won’t?”_

_“I have no doubt in my mind that you would given the chance,” Clarke tells him. “Would you like me to give you my back so you can shoot me whilst my back is turned? You seem to have a thing for blindsiding people,” she gives him back sass._

_Pike’s hold on the gun tightens, his grip becoming so firm that his hand starts to tremble from the strain._

_“Don’t push me, Clarke,” Pike warns her. “I will shoot you.”_

_Clarke takes slow steps towards him, till the gun comes into contact with her body, pressing painfully against her chest with the force behind her unrelenting stance and Pike’s restless pressure._

_“Go ahead,” Clarke tells him, pushing herself boisterously against the gun’s barrel, provoking him further. “Shoot me.”_

_“That would be a shame though won’t it? Killing you before her,” he tells her putting emphasis on the ‘her’, clearly referring to Lexa._

_It causes Clarke’s expression to transform from that of allurement and smugness to that of animosity and hostility. Her mocking smile has disappeared and turned into an unadulterated dirty look. She’s gritting her teeth so hard that Pike can almost hear them grinding against one another. Seeing her reaction, prompts him to mess with her further._

_“I’d never get to see you squirm helplessly, screaming her name, begging for me not to hurt her. Wouldn’t that be a day to witness?”_

_Clarke is rendered speechless. She’s desperately trying to hold it together, but can no longer help the panic and fear rising up her chest, painting her chest and neck in a dark red rash, reaching her eyes, making them red from the strain, from keeping her tears at bay. She wants to yell at him to not dare touch Lexa but she can’t speak, for she suspects that the only thing that would come out is a despaired sob._

_“What would you do Clarke? When she’s dead, lying in a pool of her own blood,” Pike baits her again._

_Clarke is juggling her fury and angst, her vulnerability and fortitude, her responsibilities and her restlessness. All the mixed emotions are all roaring inside her, banging at her chest, compressing her windpipe, flashing in her eyes, burning at her fingertips. Yet, she’s still motionless. She’s incapable of any movement or verbalization._

_“That’s enough,” Abby growls at Pike._

_The last time Abby has seen her daughter this unnerved and fragile was the day she announced to her that she’s being sent to the ground with the hundred. In relation to time that wasn’t that long ago, but in regards to the events that have transpired since then, it felt like a lifetime ago._

_Abby knew that Clarke was a natural leader, a tenacious girl, whose time on the ground took away her stainlessness; no longer a kid. However, that didn’t stop her from her constant duty and want to protect her. She will always remain her daughter, after all. She was determined to not let Pike insult Clarke, despite the facade they were supposed to be displaying. Unfortunately, she wasn’t enough to get him to shut up._

_“Perhaps the better plan would be to see her face when I tell her I killed you instead and let her live with it, with the regret, with the guilt, with the burden,” he tells Clarke._

_Every ounce of fear that resided in Clarke leaves her, being replaced by pure outrage, perseverance and need to provide protection. It riles Clarke up to think about Lexa living with the remorse and culpability that Clarke knows Lexa would inflict on herself. She’s utterly resolved to not let Lexa be haunted by her death, like she knows she’s haunted by Costia’s. It pains her to think about Lexa suffering like that because of her. She’s resolute about not leaving Lexa to be alone in this world._

_Love is not weakness._

_It’s an instant, intrinsic, unmindful response from Clarke to connect her fist with Pike’s jaw. It’s fast and hard and it catches Pike off-guard as much as it does Clarke. He wasn’t expecting for her to have it in her to be so bold and fierce and she wasn’t expecting herself to retaliate in such a manner._

_The force by which it was delivered knocks him backwards, causing him to stumble back into his chair. Pike’s hand comes up, holding his aching face, whilst the other grips the gun in his hand tighter._

_Pike instantaneously collects himself and mockingly laughs, bringing his gun higher, pointing it at Clarke’s chest. “May we meet again, Clarke.”_

_There is a click._

_A click that resonates throughout the entire room in the undeniable silence. A click that makes Abby close her eyes helplessly in prayer and Marcus’ breath to hitch in anticipation. It’s a click that is unquestionable the click of the mechanism being actuated in a firearm. It is the click of the trigger in Pike’s weapon._

_Pike is undoubtedly waiting for Clarke to drop dead at the feet of his desk, to turn into nothing but a lifeless body. He waits, and waits, searching for a change in her expression, to shift from that of compliance and cockiness to agony and fear, but his waiting is rendered useless._

_Clarke remains as strong and steady as ever. The mocking grin stretches further into a full blown smirk, letting out a scoff, as Abby and Marcus release a sigh of relief behind her._

_This is when it hits Pike, as he looks down at his gun and notices for the first time that his gun feels lighter than usual._

_“See, when I said you can’t kill me, I literally meant you can’t,” Clarke explains. “Did you really think we’d storm in here fully aware that you’d have a loaded gun?”_

_That’s all the confirmation Pike needs. There are no bullets in his mag. His gun is empty._

_Pike lets out a scoff, scorning himself for his imbecility, a wide, hysterical grin appearing across his face._

_Clarke leans over his desk, face inches away from Pike’s, palms resting against the cold, hard surface. Her eyes and smile indubitably exhibiting her satisfaction. She speaks in a harsh and controlling voice, “In case you’re still wondering, I’m against you.”_

_As Clarke backs off, Marcus steps forward and walks around Pike’s desk. He grabs Pike from his collar and pulls him up off his chair and away from the desk. Clarke circles round and opens several drawers till she locates what she’s looking for. She drops the file on the desk, rummages through a couple of papers then looks up at Marcus and tells him, “Code is 4319.”_

_With a nod Marcus drops his fists from Pike’s jacket and starts heading towards the door._

_Pike considers his next potential move and assesses that he doesn’t have a large window of opportunity and hence must act fast. There is no time for contemplation, he regards._

_As Marcus walks past Abby and has his back to them all, Pike charges at Abby. Before anyone can react, the momentum by which Pike dives at Abby, sends her crashing into a metal cabinet. The right side of her takes most of the impact, her ribs aching, her right shoulder coming out of her socket, making her groan loudly, her head taking massive damage, splitting the top part of her head open, colouring her brown hair a tainted red._

_“Mom,” Clarke shouts in despair, as Abby’s body falls helplessly to the ground._

_Marcus rushes back to Pike and a fist fight breaks loose, whilst Clarke rushes to her mother. Clarke kneels next to Abby, her knees hitting the floor hard, her hands pushing away the hair away from Abby’s face, inspecting any injuries, and that’s when she realizes her hands have started to be covered in blood. She freezes from a moment, gazing at her hands painted in red. Her breath hitches at the sight and she quickly reaches a frantic state, hands trembling, eyes twitching, neck muscles straining, chest concaving. She desperately calls for her mother, shaking her body, careful to avoid any obvious injuries._

_A weak released groan from Abby sets the girl at ease, making her release a huge sigh of relief. She frenziedly looks over at Marcus and Pike, still exchanging blows, observing how they managed to dismantle the headquarters in a matter of moments. One of the desks has come apart, certain long cabinets have become indented, there is glass scattered all over the floor, as well as metal pieces. A sudden howl from Marcus claims her attention once again and she catches Pike deliver a low punch to Marcus’ gut, making him drop to a knee, bending forward in agony. Pike takes advantage of Marcus’ momentary sign of weakness and crashes Marcus’ head against another desk that was luckily for him in their proximity. Not so lucky for Marcus though._

_Clarke has a brief moment to take in what just happened till Pike takes a few seconds to breathe. She hurriedly stands, taking a protective stance between him and her mother._

_“Who’s going to protect you now Princess? Where’s your precious Commander now?”_

_With a loud roar, that similar to a war cry, she charges at him, startling him momentarily, causing him to not see the first blow coming his way, which connects with his jaw. He stumbles sideways, urging Clarke to throw consistent jabs to his body._

_Abby’s comes to her full consciousness just in time to see Pike counter one of Clarke’s punches and backhand slaps her. Abby's vision is slightly obscured, her head throbbing, her sides involuntarily contracting in pain. As she sees Pike’s strength quickly taking over, she wills herself to crawl towards the door. Every inch of her body is aching, silently crying out to her to stop moving, but she pushes herself to keep going, despite all the odds. Yelping in pain, she pulls herself up against the door, holding her shoulder, and enters the code._

_Moments later Octavia appears entering through the door. The first thing she notices is Abby lazily sliding against the wall and she speedily rushes to her to help set her down easily. She attempts to check on her, trying to drown out the loud groans coming from Clarke from across the room, but Abby grabs her wrist and with a low, weak voice, she murmurs, “Clarke.”_

_With a quick nod, Octavia stands, just in time to watch Pike manhandling Clarke and tossing her to the side. Clarke lands face against the cold floor, almost administering a soothing effect to her aching body. She hisses and grunts in pain, her body still, except her grinding teeth and heaving chest._

_Octavia strides calmly and purposefully towards Pike, seemingly like an animal stalking its prey. Her eyes burn fire, but her body is impassive. She waits and waits, having mastered the art of patience in combat. His restraint breaks and he runs at her with balled up fists and an angry, determined expression on his face. She uses her great reflexes to her advantages and side steps enough to turn the momentum against him and sends him crashing into his drawing board. He goes back at her instantly but she sees it coming and blocks every attempted punch and kick, ultimately connecting with her own fists and knees._

_His aggressiveness and eagerness is causing for Octavia to take control and she’s quickly wearing him out. When he falters, his strength rapidly fading, his chest rising up and down, his mouth hanging open, gasping for air, his feet stumbling under the weight of his body, she sees her window of opportunity. A blow to the chest has him heaving for air even more, another to the gut has him bending forward, testing the balance of his body further, a knee to his shin puts him down to one knee, and another to the opposite shin has him out on both knees. With a final kick to his chin, he’s sent flying upwards and comes crashing down on the already dismantled desk, crashing atop the disassembled metal and shattered glass._

_She leisurely walks over his worn-out body, watching him inhale and exhale sharply, making him cough, as he lies almost lifeless._

_He glares at her and chokes out, “Finish it.”_

_She takes a knee besides him and with a scowl expression on her face she says, “No.”_

_He looks at her startled. “Why?”_

_“Because unlike you I know to show mercy to the wounded and defeated. Not that you deserve it,” she grimaces at him. “And you’ve got a whole lot more to answer for. Your life is not mine to take.”_

_She stands up and walks away from him, over to Clarke, who has slowly started to move._

_“Hey, you alright?”_

_“Yeah,” Clarke groans._

_“Girl, you took a beating, come on.” Octavia takes her hand and slowly pulls her up to sit against a wall._

_“I did not,” Clarke argues, coughing and groaning as she’s slowly being moved._

_“Sure.” Octavia rolls her eyes at her stubbornness. “I can see Lexa’s disapproving face already.” She jokes trying to pull a smile from the blonde’s face. And it works. Just as the name slips out of her mouth, Clarke can’t help the gentle smile that forms on her face. Octavia smiles with her._

_“Shut up,” Clarke says, looking up at her properly and that’s when she sees Pike hanging over them with a piece of broken glass in his hand. “Octavia,” she yells._

_Octavia doesn’t have time to react fast enough and Pike’s hand comes down. Both girls freeze, as if time has started working slower. It should be a momentary wait, expecting Pike’s hand to come down at Octavia, but it never does. It tenses mid-air, his jaw dropping, as a small whimper leaves his lips. He falls backwards, crashing hard against the floor, lifeless._

_They both gape at Pike’s dead body, then glance up to find Lincoln standing tall, slightly panting._

_He drops the bloody knife, and kneels next to Octavia, grabbing at her face. “Are you okay?”_

_“Yeah,” she speaks softly, slightly in shock._

_“How many times have I got to tell you, Octavia? Don’t leave your back exposed,” he tells her in a calm voice. He means to scold her for she almost got killed, but he can’t bring himself to yell at her, only wishing to protect her._

_“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she mumbles, somewhat disappointed in herself that she fought so valiantly today but made such a terrible mistake at the end._

_Upon seeing her expression, his heart melts and he pulls her into his chest and holds her. “You did good,” he whispers in her hair._

_In an attempt to comfort Octavia, Clarke weighs in too. “You did a whole lot better than me, that’s for sure.” She cackles, making Octavia let out a little chuckle._

_“Is mom okay?”_

_Lincoln looks over to where Marcus is slowly gently rubbing his hands over Abby’s head, and smiles. “Yeah, she’s going to be okay.” He turns towards Clarke and Octavia and says, “We’re all going to be okay.”_

* * *

 

_As Marcus and the rest head outside to inform their people of what has transpired and convince them of Pike’s violent assault on them, as well as for Marcus to be reinstated as Chancellor and take control of the situation, Clarke has cleaned Abby’s head wound and stitched her up._

_“Sometimes I forget how good you are at this,” Abby speaks proudly of her daughter._

_Clarke smiles. “I had a good teacher.”_

_Clarke puts her tools down and strides closer to Abby’s shoulder, and gestures towards her obviously dislocated shoulder. “Okay ready to pop this back in?”_

_“Mhm,” Abby says not so assertively, aware of the pain this causes._

_Clarke places her hands on Abby’s shoulders and counts down from 3. A couple of milliseconds after she reaches 1, she makes a sudden force at an angle and the shoulder pops back in place, with Abby yelling out a couple of profanities._

_“Thanks,” Abby says, shaking her arm trying to get the feel of it working again. “Come here,” she tells Clarke, patting the space next to her on the stretcher._

_Clarke hops on, making it squeak lightly under her weight. She sighs and lets her head fall on her mother's shoulder. “That was a long ass day.”_

_Abby nods against her daughter’s head. “I’m proud of you, though.”_

_“For getting my ass kicked?”_

_Abby lets out a low chuckle. “Well, that makes two of us. But no, I’m proud of how strong you stay when everything is telling you to do otherwise. If it wasn’t for you Clarke, none of us would be here today.”_

_Clarke lifts her head from Abby’s shoulder to look at her, prompting Abby to continue._

_“I've realized that we constantly put pressure on you, to take care of our people and to make difficult decisions, and then we never show gratitude for it,” Abby turns meekly to face her daughter. “Somehow, we only know to shed blame and not take full responsibilities for our own actions. You’ve shown us what a true leader should comprise of, Clarke. You’ve show strength, power, forgiveness, compassion, dependability, maturity, better than any of us have. You’ve taken full responsibility for every action. You strive to do what’s right, even when you can’t, you still try, you never give up. So, thank you, Clarke.”_

_As Abby finishes, tears roll down Clarke’s eyes, wetting her face, leading to Abby lifting both her hands to gentle cup Clarke’s face and wipe the crystal beads away, using her thumbs. She keeps her hands on Clarke’s cheeks, and pulls her in to place a kiss on her forehead._

_“I love you, Clarke.”_

_“I love you too, Mom.”_

_With a smile and a sigh, she drops her hands to rest on her thighs and quickly rushes out, “I think you should be Chancellor.”  
_

_“What?”_

_“Clarke you’re our true leader. You’re what’s best for our people. I’ve already spoken to Marcus and he’s agreed to pass over the Chancellor’s pin and that you’re our rightful leader.”_

_Clarke blinks repeatedly, confusion and shock evident on her face. Her mouth hangs open, attempting to speak, but finding herself unable to do so._

_Abby takes Clarke’s hands into hers. “Unless, you’d rather go back to Polis?”_

_Clarke’s brows furrow in question. Abby senses Clarke’s urgency to fidget with her hands so she pulls her hands away one more time, giving Clarke her space to play with her own fingers._

_“Is that something you want? To go back to Lexa?”_

_“I – um – you- what?” Clarke mumbles and throws her mother a questioning look._

_“You think a mother can’t tell when her own daughter is lovesick?”_

_“I’m -” Clarke’s voice breaks. She swallows the lump that has gathered in her throat, making it uncomfortable to breathe.  “What?”_

_Abby chuckles to herself at Clarke’s reaction. She can’t believe how her daughter thought she wasn’t being totally obvious and that she could hide it from her mother no less. Abby smiles at Clarke, making Clarke drop her head in slight embarrassment, her cheeks going slightly red._

_When she lifts her head back up, Abby sees how Clarke’s distress has shifted course to that of fear of rejection and disapproval._

_“Clarke,” she says, seeking to quiet the blonde’s mind. “All I want for you is to be happy. No matter who that’s with. Does she make you happy?”_

_Clarke’s frown instantaneously disappears and it morphs into a grin. Her face is beaming, as much as her golden hair and electric blue eyes are. Warmth spreads across her whole body, wrapping a blanket around her heart._

_She nods._

_To her it seems that it was a deep-seated reaction. She didn’t need to consider it, or contemplate about it in depth, she just knew. Lexa makes her happy. She may have known all along but acknowledging it, speaking of it to someone, has her breath hitching, her heart beating faster, her body temperature rising, her stomach churning._

_She doesn’t know if it’s happiness or fear or wonder or anxiety swirling inside; it could be all of them put together, but all she distinctly recognizes is one distinct aspect: Lexa makes her happy, and she’s determined to not let this scare her away. She’s obstinate to not let the potential of getting heartbroken stop her from taking a chance at happiness._ Lexa is worth the gamble, _she thinks._

_“Clarke,” Abby speaks softly, pulling Clarke away from her thoughts. “I want you to answer this for yourself. Not for me, or our people. You’ve done so much for us, you’ve sought to always put the people around you first, but I want you to make this decision for you. You deserve to be happy too. You can stay here, as Chancellor, and lead our people, or you can stay here, not as Chancellor, you are always welcome here, or you can go be with Lexa, where you can still contribute, if you so wish to do so, by being our ambassador. This is your choice, Clarke. And for once, I want you to choose what will truly make you happy.”_

_Clarke feels perplexed. She hasn’t made a decision solely for herself in so long that she feels as if she’s forgotten how to. Her selfish desires have been pushed away for such a lengthy period of time that she’s not sure she knows how to make decisions entirely based on her own wishes. Yet, somehow she knows exactly what she craves for._

_That night Clarke stares at the abundance of colossal trees in the distance, there green pigment concealed by the darkness of the night, coloring them a dark shade, whilst Lexa gazes at the night sky, no longer displaying that sky blue glow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Leave me comments and kudos, I'll love you for it !
> 
> Next chapter ... sexy times ;) So stick round 
> 
> Also I haven't forgotten about our girl Raven! You'll find out about her soon promise!


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